Risky
by BronzeLetter
Summary: Dean and Brynn get to know each other in a dirty, pretty public way.


_So. I've been writing for what feels like forever_\- _about 16 years. Most of my stuff has been lost, was on sites that no longer exist, and deleted by myself. I started when I was pretty young (abou__t 12), but recently, I've been writing a lot more again. I am currently working on a much longer Supernatural fic with a little more substance, but I had a super vivid, yet short, dirty ass dream last night, and just turned it into a little somthin' to post quick here. This is super unedited and just a really quick, plotless piece of trashy writing, fyi. I am a Dean lover, as you will soon find out, so to all you other Team Dean people out there and Supernatural smut fans in general, I hope you enjoy! –P_

Risky Business

It had finally reached the point in the night where the crowd in the bar was mostly past tipsy. The place was crowded and the music was some loud, unfamiliar top 20s shit with a heavy beat and not much else. Dean was a few drinks in. He had actually lost count but he was feeling pretty good. And not just because of the booze. A pretty little thing was in the seat next to him. They were flirting hard- his hand was on her thigh were he had very slightly pushed up the fabric of her purple paisley skirt. In response, her legs had parted just a little bit, but enough to for Dean to register it as arousing. Her skin was warm and he could just imagine the way it would get even warmer if he slid his fingers just a little higher. She had a hand resting on his, gripping his fingers lightly. Her other hand was occupied by a glass of whiskey and Coke.

They had been talking for several hours, and even played a game of pool earlier in the evening. She had lost, but not by a lot, and had pinched him roughly on his chest when he gloated. Dean had caught her hand and pulled her body close to his. The pool cue in her hands had clattered to the ground, and broke the gaze they were locked in. She laughed and the cue was scooped up quickly.

Her name was Brynn, she said when Dean had first sat down next to her at the bar. He had noticed her smooth shoulder-length hair first, followed by that little skirt, and finally, the smile she flashed him when he sat.

"Hey," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Hi." Dean ordered a beer when the bartender came over. She smiled at him, and he was instantly captivated. She had rich hazel eyes and small freckles dusted the tops of her cheeks. Her cheeks were a rosy pink, almost like she was blushing, but Dean figured it was just from her drink. She looked at him closely.

"You smell like old car," she stated, turning her body towards him, her elbow resting on the bar. Dean couldn't help the look of mild surprise from his face and his first thought was that this chick had one hell of a nose. She might even be a hunter- or something worse. "Like that old valve smell." His hand went instinctively to his knife in his jacket pocket.

"Yeah, I've got an old Impala," he agreed.

"It's black right?" she asked, smiling coyly. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up and his grip on his blade tightened.

"I saw you pull up." She pointed out the window, and Dean turned to follow her gesture, and sure enough, you could see Baby, just barely, out of the far corner of the bar's front window. Dean chuckled quietly, his hand dropping from his knife as he turned back around to face the girl. "I like old cars. She looks like she's in good shape."

"I try to keep her nice," Dean smirked, suddenly quite relaxed. He took a big sip of his beer. "I'm Dean."

"I'm Brynn."

She took a sip of her drink and set it down on the table before standing. Dean almost pouted. She bent, lips close to his ear, and whispered, "I'll be right back, handsome." Dean watched her hips sway as she walked, to the other end of the bar, towards the bathroom. When she was gone, Dean ordered another round of drinks from the bar and sat back in the dark, quiet little corner they'd been sitting at for the past half hour after removing his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. He checked his phone casually, mostly just so he didn't look like he was bored. No new texts. "Is this seat taken?" Brynn said sweetly, standing in front of Dean, back already. He opened his mouth to speak, and before he could even get anything out, she sat sideways in his lap, looping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, hello," he grumbled out. His left hand settled right on her thigh again, fingers between her legs, his right arm curled around her waist. Her face was only inches from his own and their lips connected softly. She tasted like whiskey and Dean wanted more. He deepened the kiss and she whimpered quietly, her fingers tugging on his hair sharply. "Be careful, darlin', before you start something that you can't finish," his voice was gravely and he could feel arousal again, tingling in his belly. Her face dropped and he could feel her soft panting breaths on his neck. His cock twitched.

"I want you inside me," she spoke softly against the skin of his neck, before she started kissing the skin there. Dean groaned, tightening the grip he had on her leg. "Right now."

"We can't here."

"No one will notice, please." She tugged his hair again. Dean took a sharp breath. Her head rested on his shoulder and panted. He reached over and grabbed his beer mug and took a sip. Clearly he must be nuts to even consider this. Obviously he must be ill.

"Face forward," he commanded shortly. Without waiting for her to do as she was told, he grabbed her by the hips and moved her body himself, pushing her legs from his lap and situating her so her thighs were inside his. "Slide forward, just a little. Pick up your drink." Brynn picked up her glass and took a sip, and with her feet on the floor, slid forward a few inches. Dean reached between their bodies and tried to be a subtle as possible when he unzipped his pants. "Come here darlin'." With his hands on her hips, he pulled he so that her back was flat against his chest, and then pulled her skirt out in the back a little so nothing could be seen. She gasped. "Oh fuck." Dean could feel the hot, wetness against his rapidly stiffening cock. "No underwear, sweetheart?" he gritted out.

"I took them off in the bathroom," she sighed out, taking another sip whilst very carefully rubbing herself against him.

"Ready?" he asked. He reached over and took a sip of his beer, quickly scanning the room to confirm that no one was really looking at them or seemed to notice that he was about to stick his dick in a pretty girl in a fucking bar full of people.

"Yes, Dean, please," she practically begged. Without being told, she lifted herself up slightly, enough for him to reach underneath her skirt and press himself to her wet entrance. She whimpered into her drink glass to cover the noise, and that turned Dean the fuck on. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her down hard, now fully inside her. Brynn very nearly screamed, but her mouth must have been closed, because it was muffled, and again, no one seemed to notice. Dean had never been thankful for shitty current hits music before.

Brynn began to rock very slightly and clench around Dean, still drinking her whiskey, and very quietly moaning. Dean was in heaven. He was able to hide a little more than the young woman in his lap, being behind her. He buried his face in her shoulder and let out a long, low moan. Her pussy was so fucking wet, he was sure the front of his pants would be a mess, but he didn't care. After he took a sip of beer and set down the mug, he was surprised to see a waitress two feet from them.

"Would you like refills?" she asked, looking from Brynn to Dean to his nearly empty mug on the table. Brynn stopped moving, and instead just clamped down on his cock.

"Yes please, for me!" she said cheerfully, not missing a beat. Dean cleared his throat, voice nearly cracking, hands vice-like on Brynn's sides

"Same," was all he could grate out. The bartender nodded and turned to get the drinks. "You are so fucking bad," he said in her ear, tightening his grip and lifting her up before thrusting up into her as hard as he dared.

"Fuck!" she swore, under her breath, head rolling forward, both of her hands clutching her glass. She began rocking faintly again and tightening over and over around him. Dean was breathing hard, his brain buzzing, sweating lightly. He felt himself getting close to the edge, and it took nearly all he had to not fuck her like crazy and make her scream for him right there in that shitty bar.

"I'm gonna come, sweetheart," he groaned near her ear. "You feel so fuckin' good."

"Do it," Brynn whispered, taking a sip of her drink. She turned to look back at him, her lips parted in the most delicious way, cheeks flushed. One of her hands left her glass and gripped his knee and her muscles contracted around him hard. Dean's breath stuck in his throat and his cock throbbed. He bit into her shoulder blade and she stifled a squeal as his release hit him hard like a punch in the gut. He flooded her pussy thoroughly, and she carefully rode it out, breathing sharply through her nose. "Fuck," she swore. Dean cleared his throat again, lifting his head back up and he slid her forward just slightly. His cock slipped from her wetly, and he reached under her skirt to jam it quickly into his jeans and zip up. Tucking her skirt back under her ass, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressing his lips to the small patch of skin between her ear and hairline.

"That was…" he trailed off. Brynn squeezed his forearms.

"So hot," she finished for him.

"Mmm," Dean agreed. Slowly, she stood from his lap, smoothing her skirt, and then her top.

"So, big boy, I'm going to go back to the bathroom. Why don't you pay the tab, and then take me for a ride in that old ass car of yours?" Brynn winked and turned to walk to the other side of the bar.

"Oh hell yeah," Dean agreed, eagerly awaiting her return. Holy fuck, what a ride.


End file.
